


Tea in Wonderland

by tygermine



Category: Alice in Wonderland (2010), Bandom, My Chemical Romance, Supernatural
Genre: AU, Community: bandom au, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-15
Updated: 2011-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 10:17:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tygermine/pseuds/tygermine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My Attempt at a Supernatural AU. The Ways are hunters, Bob is in charge and wtf? Pete just fell through a mirror!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea in Wonderland

Bob Bryar sat staring at his cellphone, willing it to ring.

After about an hour it still hadn't rung and he was beginning to feel like a teenage girl. With a final dirty look he turned his attention to the musty books crowding his desk. His laptop was open, the screen lit up with the front page of the New York Times - New Serial Killer? - read the headline. There had been a slew of murders lately and despite coming across as standard crazy person type killings, something about them caused Bob's neck to tingle.

He reread the article before glancing at his phone again.

It had been too long. Frank or, more likely Ray, would have called to check in by now. He called Ray's phone again, and got redirected to voicemail.

"Call me, you asshole." Bob growled into the phone before hanging up. He stared at the silent cell, until an idea flitted through his mind.

No. Bad idea. Go away.

Those two were trouble. But they were in the area, last time he heard. But the last time he spoke to them they'd just killed a nest of vampires and instead of the usual post killing sombreness, those two couldn't stop talking about how cool killing vampires was. Bob pinched the bridge of his nose, remembering with a sigh the Buffy metaphors that were babbled down the line to him.

No. He was not sending the Ways after Frank and Ray. And yet, his thumb had already found the number and pressed dial. Bob had a feeling he was going to regret this call.

*********

"Hello?" came the groggy answer.

"Gerard?" Bob asked

"No. It's Mikey. Bob? That you?"

"Yeah. Where are you?"

"Uh...bed?" Mikey replied.

"Whose bed?" Bob couldn't stop himself from asking.

"...your mom's."

Mikey was obviously hung over.

"Tell her I say hi. What part of the country are you in?" He heard a shuffling sound in the background and what sounded like Gerard telling Mikey to fuck off, he was sleeping.

"Uh, we're in Washington." Mikey came back to the line.

"Washington? Decided to become bureaucrats?"

"Haunted library. No biggie. What's up?"

"I need you in New York. Ray and Frank need back up," Bob swallowed a lump that formed in his throat. Ray and Frank were the best hunters he knew and he'd never forgive himself if something happened to them.

"Ok. Gee - get up. We've gotta go to New York. Ok, Bob. Email me the details," with that, Mikey hung up.

******

"New York. Why New York? Its too close to Jersey and full of douchebags." Gerard grouched as they drove down the interstate.

Mikey was checking his e-mail on his blackberry. "Bob said Ray and Frank need back up. Apparently they were investigating a leprechaun that was kidnapping kids."

At the mention of a kidnapper leprechaun, people usually giggle nervously and try to find the nearest exit to get away from you. Gerard just raised his eyebrows.

"Bob says the last time he spoke to Ray, they found a lead in an antique shop just off Madison." Mikey put his phone away and shrugged. "Guess that's where we'll start."

Gerard gunned their '89 black Trans Am and continued down the highway.

**************

"We're investigating the disappearance of two of our agents." Gerard flashed his fake FBI credentials at the shopkeeper. She was a petite, mouse like woman, in her mid thirties. She blinked in confusion.

"FBI? I don't remember any agents coming in here and trust me, that's something I'd remember."

The brothers exchanged glances.

"They were off duty." Mikey quickly explained. "Were they looking at anything in particular when they were here?"

The woman bit her lip. "They were really interested in the new stock I had shipped in about two weeks ago. Its still all in the back. I let them browse there, but I didn't see them leave."

"May we take a look?" Mikey asked.

She led them into the shop's basement. It was surprisingly airy and bright. Gerard felt a little betrayed by this. For him, basements were supposed to be dark, damp, smelly and haunted. They weren't supposed to look like Martha Stewart's garage. Crates were piled along the wall, each carefully labelled with the item inside, the shipper address and serial number. They were all stamped by US customs, so that ruled out smuggling. Mikey began examining the contents of a steel cupboard in a corner of the basement. Bric 'n brac cluttered up the shelves. Nothing looked Irish or possessed.

"Dude." Gerard called him over to the opposite corner.

Wedged in between the wall and a crate containing a 16th century loom from France - well that's what the label said - was a large mirror.

"Hey, help me with this." Gerard said, tugging at the mirror's frame. Mikey grabbed an edge and within seconds they had it free and leaning against the wall. A glint caught Mikey's eye. He reached down where the crate was wedged and picked up a pocket knife. A very nice pocket knife, mother of pearl handle, sterling silver blade, and on the hilt a small engraving.

F.A.I 3

"That's Frank's knife." Gerard took the knife and examined it closely. "Well, they were definitely here, but where did they go?"

Mikey knelt in front of the mirror. The frame was made of pewter and had intricate engravings etched into it. Mikey ran his fingers over the markings.

“What now?” Gerard said with a sigh.

“Kidnapped?” asked Mikey.

“By what? No sign of a struggle. Maybe Frank just dropped his knife in some spaz attack or something,” Gerard reasoned.

They went back upstairs.

“Tell me about the mirror,” Mikey asked the women as she polished brass picture frames.

“Nothing to tell really. Came from England. An old estate liquidation. Are you interested in buying it?”

“Maybe, what are you asking for it?” Mikey shrugged and ignored the look Gerard gave him. He knew they didn’t have money or space for a mirror, but something about it intrigued him. He felt that he had to own it.

“Well, 18th century pewter frame, no marks, chips or cracks in the glass…$1500.”

Gerard felt his eyes boggle and turned to examine some antique hunting books before he strangled his brother for being a moron.

Mikey pulled out a credit card, rang through the purchase and within minutes he was loading it onto the back-seat of the car.

Gerard was leaning against the bonnet, arms crossed over his chest and smoking.

“You are an asshole,” he stated, flicking some ash onto the sidewalk.

Mikey just shrugged and climbed into the car.

 

Back at the motel, Mikey set the mirror up on a dented old chest of drawers and stood back. Gerard had left in a sulk to go find supper. Probably In ‘n Out burgers. Pizza if Mikey was lucky.

His phone rang.

“Find anything yet?” Bob sounded extremely stressed, and maybe a little drunk.

“Yeah. Frank dropped his knife in the antique store, but the place was clean. No ectoplasm, no EMF, nothing. I did buy a mirror though.”

“A what? Mirror? Mikey… it had to be the leprechaun. And last time I checked, leprechauns don’t use mirrors.”

“I know, but it is a good looking mirror.”

“I’m hanging up now.” And Bob promptly ended the call.

Mikey sighed and sank onto his bed, pulling his laptop closer to do more leprechaun research.

A slight glint caught his eye, causing him to look up. Nothing in the room was different. Temperature felt the same. He shrugged and went back to trolling for murderous leprechauns.

About ten minutes later, a glimmer caught his eye. He looked up and the surface of the mirror was moving, like the surface of a lake. Mikey set his laptop aside and grabbed the bag of salt he kept next to his bed. Slowly, he inched towards the mirror. Suddenly his ears were filled with screams, someone was calling him. He had to find them. He stepped closer to the mirror, his hand outstretched when suddenly the door banged open and in strolled Gerard with his bitch face on and an extra large pizza box in his hand. Mikey jumped and glanced back at the mirror. All he saw was his own reflection.

“If you bought the mirror just so you can pop pimples and do your hair in a bigger reflective surface, I’m going to have to kill you and blame it on a demon,” Gerard flopped onto his bed, opened the box of pizza and pulled out a six pack.

“I…uh…there’s…” Mikey tried to explain, but in the mood he was in, Gerard was as receptive as a brick wall. Instead, Mikey grabbed the mirror and placed it face down on his bed.

“Wha’ oo ooin?” Gerard asked around a mouth full of pepperoni and melted cheese.

“Something I need to check,” Mikey mumbled, running his fingers along the back of the frame and…

There!

An inch before the bottom right corner was a tiny metal plaque. Mikey grabbed the sighting for his rifle from his bag and examined the plaque while scribbling down the engraving. He then went back to his laptop and began typing furiously.

Gerard watched this all happening with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Sometimes his brother really didn’t make any sense. After what seemed like an eternity, Mikey looked up from his laptop, face paler than usual.

“Gee, pack up, we need to go see Patrick.”

 

“You only want to go see Pete,” Gerard was back to grouching as they drove north west, heading to Chicago.

“Well, mostly Patrick, but if Pete’s there…”

“Ew. I don’t want to know,” Gerard screwed up his face and turned up the volume on the radio. Thin Lizzy blasted through the speakers.

After a minute, Gerard turned the music down and poked his brother on the arm.

“You want to tell me what’s going on with you and the mirror?”

Mikey shrugged. “I have a theory, but I need Patrick to confirm it for me.”

“Consider this exposition time, then.”

“Uh, no. I consider this pull over and eat time.”

Gerard stuck his tongue out at his brother.

 

Pete ran a nightclub in Chicago – Angels and Kings. He was originally going to name it Angels and Demons but Patrick convinced him that naming something after a Dan Brown novel was just this side of wrong, and besides, the last thing he wanted was the club crowded with tourists and demons who liked irony.

The club had the feel of a dingy basement bar, with a dancefloor that lit up like the one from Saturday Night Fever. Pete was especially proud of this fact and liked to keep it lit up all the time, until Patrick showed him a utility bill after the first month and now it is only lit up when people actually dance. Which wasn’t often.

Gerard and Mikey strolled into the bar around noon, but there were already patrons taking up space. They recognised the group crowding the far corner booth. Hunters, the lot of them. The Ways ducked their heads, hoping to be ignored and not remembered. Mikey still owed Gabe $100 after he lost a bet about a case involving a rabid clown. Gerard just didn’t want anyone to see him make a class A moron of himself in front of Lynz, a badass hunter out of New York. They had initially run into each other on a job in Texas. Her crew, Steve, Kitty, and Jimmy had walked in on Gerard and Mikey fighting each other over who ate the last burrito. Which would have been fine, except, it was a slapping fight. They blamed a trickster, but the smile in Lynz’s eyes when they parted ways told him she thought he was a clown. He, in the meantime, had developed a serious crush on her. To this day, he held tricksters in the same category as pond slime and blamed them for him never being able to hook up with Lynz. Ever.

“Bastards,” Gerard muttered.

“Just keep your head down, we’re nearly there,” Mikey whispered back as they headed for a side door marked: Private. Enter and you will be eaten. Or cursed.

The distant echoes of Ella Fitzgerald drifted down the corridor once they closed the door behind them, very proud of their ninja like stealth. Gerard knocked on the door and as it opened, a burst of Louis Armstrong crooning ‘dream a little dream’ hit them.

“Oh, hi guys.”

The Ways looked down.

“Hey shortstop, we need your help,” Mikey started.

“Shortstop? That’s the best you got? Come on Mikeyway, if you’re gonna tease me, at least make it a good one,” Patrick smiled at them fondly, then suddenly looked down as if remembering something. “Does this help require pants?”

The Ways nodded.

“Ok, gimme a second,” the door closed behind Patrick with a louder than intended bang.

“Hat and glasses, but no pants? How?” Gerard asked his brother, who just shrugged. Second later, Patrick stepped out of his room.

“Ok, what have you got for me?” He then squinted up at Mikey. “Why isn’t Pete hanging all over you?”

“We snuck in. Under the radar. You know?” Mikey said softly.

Patrick nodded. “Gabe out there?”

“And Lynz.” Gerard swallowed nervously.

“Full house! Wow. Ok, to the batcave!”

The boys exchanged an amused look before following their short friend to the basement.

 

Patrick settled down behind a desk heaving under the weight of computer monitors and old, dusty books.

“What help do you need?” he said, turning on the responsible adult tone he reserves for Pete.

Gerard pointed at Mikey, who shifted uncomfortably.

“Uh…yeah…so…” Mikey started.

“What he means is, while investigating why Ray and Frank have fallen off the face of the earth, this brother of mine bought an antique mirror. A few hours later, he’s telling me we have to come see you.” Gerard crossed his arms and glared at Mikey.

“A mirror?” Patrick asked.

Mikey nodded. Patrick turned to a keyboard and rapidly typed in a few commands. Suddenly there was pounding on the ceiling above them before silence descended. Gerard brushed some dust off his leather jacket.

“Ok, let’s go get this mirror of yours,” said Patrick.

Mikey opened his mouth to explain how unstealthy it was to lug a mirror down there in front of everyone, when Patrick cut him off.

“I sent out a fake broadcast about a haunting downtown. They’ve scattered, for now.”

“Genius,” Mikey smiled.

 

The mirror sat against the far wall in Patrick’s basement. Mikey could have sworn it was glaring at him, just radiating pure evil. Gerard was drumming his fingers on the desk, waiting for the other hunters to come back and Patrick was on his knees in front of the mirror, examining it with a magnifying glass. He kept murmuring things like, ‘impossible’ ‘Cheshire’ ‘oh really?’. Suddenly the basement door burst open.

“Patrick! Where the hell has everyone gone?”

Pete stood in the doorway, looking sullen, angry and confused all at the same time.

“Oh, Pete, I – “

“Mikeyway? Mikeyway? Is that you?” Pete descended on the Way brother in a speed that almost hit warp. “Mikeyway! Where the hell have you been!” Pete wrapped Mikey up in a hug that probably shifted some of Mikey’s internal organs as he pushed Mikey’s face into his neck.

“Ib uh ellu ete,” Mikey tried.

“Pete. Who’s been manning the bar?” Patrick asked.

“Joe has. I had to go… out… for a while,” Pete let go of Mikey who gasped in a deep breath and took a cautionary step back.

“Uh huh. Well, go help him. We’re busy,” Patrick tried to dismiss him, but Pete sidestepped him before running up to the mirror.

“Wow, dudes, cool mirror!” He leant forward, running his fingers over the frame before running them over the glass, which suddenly shifted into ripples and Pete found himself falling forwards, right into the mirror. Before anyone could move, he was through.

Patrick, Gerard and Mikey stood rooted to the spot before breaking out into girly screams and running upstairs to the bar. They hit the hard, solid oak surface in a series of three thuds. Joe jerked up from where he was slouched against the back counter, rolling a joint.

“Whoa, dudes. What’s up?”

Patrick just waved a hand at Joe, trying to stop his heart from climbing out through his throat. Gerard and Mikey weren’t doing much better, each paler than usual. Joe lined up three double shots of Jack Daniels and stood back to watch the show.

The boys made quick work of the bourbon before slowing their breathing to normal and turning to each other.

“Did he-“ Gerard began

“I think he did,” Mikey nodded

“Son of a bitch,” Gerard spat out. He waved for another round of drinks.

“Trading places. Nothing can go in, without letting something out,” Patrick muttered, before swinging away from the bar and running back down the stairs. The Ways followed close behind. As they approached the basement door, they heard a scratching coming from the other side.

“Do you think its Pete?” Mikey whispered.

Patrick shook his head. “No, its something else.”

The Ways drew their guns and stood on either side of the door, nodding for Patrick to open it. A giant, Cheshire cat leaped up at Patrick. The Ways levelled their guns at the cat.

“Oh now fellas, there’s no need for that.” With a swish of his tail, the guns turned into soap shaped guns that when fired, let off bubbles. “And you, shorty, are the cuddliest thing I’ve ever come across.”

Gerard and Mikey were debating jumping on the talking cat when it suddenly jumped off Patrick and padded back into the room.

“Exposition time boys.” It called in what could only be a New Orleans accent. The boys followed him into the basement and Patrick closed the door behind him. The Cheshire Cat made itself comfortable on an old couch in a corner with a sigh.

“You…you’re really him?” Patrick finally found his voice.

“If by him you mean me, then yes, I am him and me making I,” the cat answered, smile wide and blinding.

There was a shadow near the mirror that caught Gerard’s eye. When he knelt down, he saw a very sulky Pete sitting on the other side of the mirror.

“He’s a clever one, he listened. Do not wander off they say. Stay close by,” the cat purred out.

“How do we get him out?” Mikey asked, voice tight with worry.

“I think, the better question is, what got out before him?” Gerard pointed to the cat. “And maybe a full explanation?”

Patrick got into lecture mode and pulled up some information on this various TV screens.

“As Mikey suspected, this is the very mirror that hung over Lewis Carroll’s fireplace. Alice in Wonderland? Through the Looking Glass? Yeah, that was not inspired by some cute little family friend. Alice was a schizophrenic young woman who descended into a homicidal sociopathic madness. And Lewis chronicled every little detail, hiding them in innocent looking metaphors. Somehow, and this is where I need more time to examine this mirror, the characters became corporeal, alongside Alice’s madness and Lewis must have trapped them in the mirror. Pewter isn’t a conduit for magic. Something else must have triggered it.”

“So you’re saying that Ray and Frank got pulled through the mirror, releasing something even worse into the world?” Gerard asked, glancing at an increasingly depressed looking Pete.

Patrick nodded. “We need to know what else was released, how to trap them back in the mirror and seal it permanently.”

Mikey looked at the Cheshire cat. “Who else is free?”

“For who else can it be? Alice, she pawn and would be queen, her man servants, Tweedledum and Dee. Or perhaps they remain behind and all we have is the Hatter wanting tea?” The cat grinned widely, almost face splitting.

“Hey, don’t you like, disappear and change colours?” Gerard asked, thinking back to the Disney movie.

“This plane doesn’t like the Cheshire, I don’t like it here. No games, no jokes, no Jabberwocky to invoke.” The cat almost sulked. It then jumped off the desk and wandered back to the mirror. He nosed against the glass, but nothing shimmered, nothing warped. The glass stayed in place and Pete looked like he was about to cry.

“Pete!” Gerard knocked on the glass “Pete. Go find Ray and Frank. Ok?” Gerard mouthed, not sure if Pete could hear him on the other side of the glass, but Pete shook his head.

“Why the hell not?”

Pete stood up, waved his arms in a flailing kind of way before stamping his foot and pointing to the ground before sitting down decisively.

“I don’t think Pete’s going anywhere,” Mikey muttered.

“Fuck!” Gerard spat. “Patrick, I think we’re gonna need all the help we can get.” And a lead weight settled in his stomach.

 

“So you’re saying we need to run around New York tracking down a psycho bitch in blue and her two henchmen? I knew you two were trouble, but this is beyond, even for you two clowns,” Lynz sat back in the booth, arms crossed and glaring at the Ways.

“Yeah,” Gabe agreed. “We’re supposed to be badass hunters, but you two clowns keep turning this job into a fucking joke and we’re not happy.”

“Oh come on Gabe, what are you going to do? Take our hunter badges away and kick us out of the group?” Mikey scowled.

Gerard had been standing to one side of the bar, ever since the rest of the hunters came back from their fake hunt and had crowded into their usual spot when they saw that Patrick had something important to tell them. They took Patrick and his research seriously, but it looked as though they didn’t take it quite as seriously when the source was the Ways. Gerard chewed on a fingernail, nervously weighing up the odds on actually speaking up versus him throwing up. Finally he stepped forward.

“Look, guys, I know us Ways are a bit of a joke in hunter circles, which is cool with us, cos, let’s face it, Mikey, we’ve been jokes since school. But we always get the job done and now two of our own are stuck god knows where, with no way of getting back out, unless we find these psychos. So let’s just put the egos aside and put our heads together – (Steve muttered something about not knowing what head to use, which Kitty swiftly shut up with a well aimed elbow dig) – and figure out how to save Frank and Ray. Ok?” With that, he walked outside and lit a cigarette, his hand only shaking slightly.

Leaning against the facebrick surface of the bar, he closed his eyes, tilted his head up towards the setting sun and inhaled deeply on his cigarette. He ignored the sound of the bar door swinging open and close beside him.

“Can I have one of those?”

Gerard squinted down and found Lynz standing in front of him. Her old, faded jeans and Mastodon T-shirt belied a certain ninja like speed and strength. Gerard secretly thought she was the Buffy to his Angel, but only after season 3, when Angel developed a sense of humour and Buffy was more badass than ever.

“Uh, yeah… here.” He handed his crumpled pack and a battered lighter to her. She nodded her thanks, lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, leaning against the side of the building next to him.

“You know, not everyone thinks you and your brother are a hazard.”

Gerard snorted. “Yeah. Sure.”

“I’m serious. I’ve seen you two in action and there’s something there. Ever thought of teaming up with Frank and Ray?”

Gerard shrugged. “Me and Mikey, we work well together. No need to get anyone else involved.” He didn’t even want to think about the one time they did let someone into their team and how badly it ended. His knee still throbbed with the memory of being flung and held against a mausoleum door while listening to Otter scream in pain. Gerard still had it out for that demon and nothing will stop him from exorcising it straight back to hell when their paths cross again.

“And yet you’re bringing in the big guns on this one. Any idea where to start?” Lynz asked, crushing the cigarette under her Doc Marten.

“Bob. I’m gonna call Bob.” Gerard pulled out his cell.

“Tell me you found them.” Bob said into his cell.

“In a way,”

Bob could hear Gerard scratching his head in the distance.

“In a way? Gee, I don’t have time for Way speak. I need human speak.”

“Ok, so that mirror Mikey told you about, well, it belonged to Lewis Carroll…”

“Are you at Patrick's?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait for me.”

Bob was out the door and in his car before Gerard had a chance to say goodbye.

 

Bob was halfway to Chicago when the text message came through.

Nt in chg NEmore. NYC. Meet @ Brians bk shp.

 

Brian’s Bookstore was more an annexure nestled between a rasta coffee shop and an organic green grocer. Brian owned all three shops, but spent more time in the book shop sourcing out of print copies and suspect spell books. Gerard liked to think of Brian as the Giles in his life. Just less British and with more tattoos.

He and Mikey were huddled on a large leather couch scanning a map of New York, while Brian used a crystal to scry over the map for Alice and her cohorts. They had sent the rest of the hunters to do the footwork and see what clues they could find. Jimmy expressed a bit too much enthusiasm at the idea of hitting up a demon bar for some Q&A with Harold, the barman and portal guard.

Bob burst into the shop, glass frames rattling and door bell clanging.

“Bob! Hi! Coffee?” Mikey held up his cup. Bob just frowned and sat himself down across from Brian and the Ways.

“Update. Full and unabridged and no Buffy metaphors,” he growled, taking Mikey’s offered cup.

 

“So the Cheshire cat actually wants to go back but it can’t?” Bob sighed. “Fuck, my life.”

“I hear you.” Mikey muttered.

Brian was still scrying like mad over the map, but the crystal kept bouncing as soon as it settled on a spot on the map.

“Are these fuckers capable of teleporting? Cos my crystal is acting like its on meth.” Brian smiled for a second at his own joke.

“That was a lame ass joke Schechter. Where does it keep jumping?” Bob asked.

Brian read out the locations while Bob scribbled it onto a legal pad. After staring at the list for a few seconds, he jumped up and ran out the shop. A few minutes later, he came back in, cradling and open laptop that he was typing furiously with one hand.

“I knew it. I fucking knew it,” he spluttered. The Ways and Brian leaned in, curious.

“Share with us, Obi Wan,” Gerard said, hiding a smile.

“Shut up with the stupid and listen up. That serial killer that’s been going through town? All the addresses of the murders are the same spots Brian’s crystal keeps hitting. Call Lynz and Gabe, tell them to spread out and find what they can at those addresses. Brian, you keep on with the scrying,” after a second, Bob cleared his throat. “Uh, Brian, what’s the password to your wifi?”

 

Two hours later the hunters all called in, reporting nothing worth mentioning was spotted at the sites. Bob still insisted on a lot of photos and then for them to get their asses off the streets.

An hour later, Lynz and her crew had walked into the book shop and handed Bob a memory card filled with pictures from their various site visits. Scrolling through them, nothing came up with a giant neon sign saying – clue over here! – but Bob persisted. He was like a dog with a bone, he wasn’t letting this go. Gabe and his cohorts came in not too long after that, also armed with a memory card full of nothing.

As the early morning stretched into noon, the hunters drifted off to sleep, draped over various seats and couches and in Nate’s case, an antique rug, exhausted from their sleuthing.

Gerard woke up to Bob mumbling something.

“Hey,” his voice thick and groggy. “Have you been to sleep at all?” he asked.

“No.” Bob dropped the newspaper onto Gerard’s lap.

Serial Killer Hits Double Digits.

Gerard choked back a gasp. Bob stood and stretched, heading for the coffee machine for a refill.

“I know. Last night. Kids, again. Fucking hell.” Bob scrubbed a hand over his face.

“We’ll get them.” Gerard promised and shook Mikey awake. “Mikey, come on.”

In a zombie like state, Mikey followed Gerard, or more the cup of coffee Gerard had in his hand, out to the car and within minutes they were stuck in noon New York traffic.

“Where’re we goin?” Mikey asked, feeling a little more human, although his neck was really stiff from the couch.

“There was another murder last night. We’re going to check it out.” Gerard gave them both a once over. “US Marshalls today, the suits are still covered in primordial ooze from Vermont.”

Mikey just nodded in agreement and kept sipping the coffee.

Gerard turned off the main road and parked in an alley a block from the crime scene. They stretched as they got out of the car, hearing alarming pops and their backs and other joints protested moving. Digging out the marshal badges, Gerard handed Mikey his as they walked towards the crime scene. They flashed their badges at a NYPD officer who looked fresh out of the academy and a little green around the gills. Stepping under the crimes scene taped, they suddenly saw what had the officer feeling sick.

Two little girls lay side by side, their necks broken. Both blonde with blue eyes.  
Mikey had a flash of the pictures of Alice he’d seen. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Twins, holding hands, lying in a New York alley.

“They can’t be older than twelve.” Mikey gritted out.

“The same age Alice was when she started to lose her mind,” Gerard whispered.

“See anything?” Mikey asked, looking around.

Gerard went over to the dead girls. One of the girls had a flyer stuck to her Hannah Montana sneaker. Making sure no one was watching, he peeled it off and stuck it in his pocket. With a final look to see if he or Mikey had missed anything, they melted into the crowd forming on the other side of the tape.

Back in the car, Gerard pulled out the flyer. It was printed in a very old fashioned style – early 1900s. It was for a tea party. And the address was the alley.

“Mikey. I think I just broke the case.”

“Won’t be the first time you broke something.” Mikey muttered, pulling out into traffic and heading back to the coffee shop.

 

Back at the bookshop, Bryar was examining the mirror far too closely for anyone’s comfort, so to keep the hordes of hunters whining, Bob now had a lime green bungee cord attached to his belt. Brian held the other end tightly, while reading an old beaten copy of Through The Looking Glass.

The doorbell clanged as the Ways entered the shop.

“…and?” Bob asked.

“Two little girls, Bob. It wasn’t pretty.” Gerard sank onto the couch next to Brian.

“But, my brother says he cracked the case,” Mikey had once again retreated to the safety of the coffee machine, as if it held all the answers to the universe in the flip of a switch.

“Are you going to share with the class?” Bob growled, the frustration eating at him.

“Oh, yeah,” Gerard shifted and pulled the flyer out of his jacket pocket. “What do you make of this?”

Bob stepped away from the mirror and took the flyer, and a magnifying glass lying on the table nearby. Holding it close to his face, he examined it closely.

“This looks like it was printed early 1900s, judging by the font. What’s this address?”

“The murder scene,” Mikey said, hiding behind a cup of coffee.

“This is how she’s getting her victims? That’s so sick.”

“Yeah, but the address is an alley,” Gerard pointed out.

“Maybe its an illusion,” Brian muttered from behind his book.

“That’s some serious Mojo she’s messing with,” Bob put the flyer down with a sigh. “Mikey, google this publisher for me.”

Mikey did a mock salute and pulled his laptop closer and began typing. A few minutes later, he looked up.

“Got it, but you’re not gonna like it. Publisher was based in London. Place burned down during the Blitz.”

“And the printing press?”

“Was shipped to a museum in New England… where it disappeared a month ago.”

They all groaned.

“Dead end. I hate dead ends,” Bob kicked a bookshelf.

“Hey, property destruction on your own time and not in my shop, asshole,” Brian protested from his seat.

Gerard had pulled the map closer to his side of the coffee table and was studying it intently. He suddenly flailed, grabbed a sharpie, and began drawing lines across the map.

“If that ends up being a pentacle, I swear to god, I’m going to eat…Brian’s hemp beanie,” Mikey sighed.

Gerard stopped drawing and sat back.

“A chessboard?”

Gerard nodded.

“I don’t get it,” said Bob.

“At least its not a pentacle,” said Mikey, wearily eyeing Brian’s beanie.

“A chessboard?... chessboard…” Brian began muttering and paging through the book in his hands.

“What are you going on about?” Bob growled. “Gerard, method to the madness, please?”

Gerard shrugged. “I can’t… it just…appeared…”

“I got it!” Brian jumped up and began reading from the book quietly, pointing to the marked off crime scenes.

“And bishop takes knight there… pawn to that side… and a castle retreat… there!” He pointed to an intersection on the east side.

“What’s there?” Bob asked.

“The next murder. Alice is following the moves from the book. Duh.” Brian was met with three sets of glazed expressions. Until a little light came on behind Gerard’s eyes.

“Of course! Through The Looking Glass is all about a giant chess game. Alice is recreating it. Brian, I could kiss you.”

“That’s what your mom said,” Brian smiled.

“Let’s go,” Bob had already untied the bungee cord, grabbed his jacket and hauled Mikey out of the confines of the couch, where he was actually pretty comfortable, thank you very much – and was almost to the door when he shouted at Gerard to get his ass out there, and play chauffeur.

Gerard rolled his eyes and followed.

 

Traffic was yet again, a bitch. Bob had called Lynz and Gabe and told them to meet him and the Ways at the intersection on the east side, but keep a low profile.

Gabe had sniggered and said “Don’t give advice you won’t take,” before hanging up. Bob just sighed and prayed that they would be in time to catch that supernatural bitch and send her back to Wonderland.

It turned out to be in a damn nice neighbourhood. Doormen, limos, window boxes filled with flowers.

“It’s like an episode of Gossip Girl,” Gerard said softly, with a hint of awe.

Mikey just snorted softly behind him.

“Shut up, keep your eyes open for anything… not normal,” Bob grouched from the passenger seat. He spotted Lynz and Kitty standing near a hot dog stand, each with a giant slushie scanning the area. Steve and Jimmy were on a fire escape four floors up across the road and looked to be having a thumb war. He didn’t see any of Gabe’s people, so he prayed they were very good at hiding and not in the bar nearby.

About 2 hours later, a box of cigarettes, two cups of coffee and a discussion about Oprah and Dr Phil and who would win in a WWF smackdown contest, Bob’s phone rang out.

“Two little girls following a tall blonde. Two toads behind them, heading north.”

“Thanks Lynz.”

Bob closed his phone and spotted the perps.

“There they are. Let’s go. But nothing to conspicuous. We need to keep them alive.” Bob said, climbing out of the car.

“So… Tazers?” Mikey suggested.

“It’ll have to do.” Bob sighed.

They headed off, the brothers breaking off to block any escape routes. Bob continued forward, towards the two little girls and Alice. He could see Tweedledum and Tweedledee a few steps behind her. He felt, more than heard Lynz and Kitty fall into step behind him.

When he saw Alice turn into the alley, he leant against the wall and pretended to light a cigarette, blending into the crowd. As soon as the Tweedles stepped into the alley, he pushed off the wall and turned the corner, only to find the alley deserted.

“Fuck!” he swore softly and waved Lynz and Kitty back. They stepped into the sunlight and sighed.

“Where did they go?” Lynz asked.

“Magic portal?” Kitty suggested.

“Mommy! Mommy look! A tea party!”

All three hunters turned to see a little girl tugging at her mom’s sleeve and pointing down the alley.

“There’s nothing there, just an alley. Come on, lets go home.” The mom tried to pull her daughter away, but the child stayed put and proceeded to throw a temper tantrum that even had Bob impressed. Suddenly she broke free of her mothers hold and ran towards the alley.

Bob acted on pure instinct and caught the girl before she could walk into the trap. Kicking and screaming, he carried the girl back to her mother.

“FBI. We’re in the middle of a sting op, so I suggest you take your kid and get the hell out of here,” Bob told the shocked mother and turned back to face the entrance of the alley.

Trust Alice to choose a trap only children could see. Sick fuck! Bob hated invisible anything and immediately began to think back to all the spells he knew that could get away with no trinkets and worked on invisibility.

Suddenly a tea room appeared in front of him. Bright shutters on the windows, frilly curtains and a hug sign saying: Tea Party!

Huh.

Bob nodded at Lynz and Kitty and they flanked him as they climbed the stairs. Bob kicked down the door to the tea room, following the door and hitting the first Tweedle with a powerful blast of Tazer voltage. It squeaked and crumpled to the ground. Next to him, he heard Lynz take down the second Tweedle. There was shouting and the sound of a little girl screaming coming from the back of the room. Kitty beat him to the back door. There in the alley, was Gerard, wrestling Alice to the ground, his Tazer lying nearby.

Mikey had herded the girls around the corner away from the violence.

Lynz flew past Bob and Kitty and pushed her Tazer into the side of Alice, sending through a violent surge of electricity, causing Alice to flop and flail like a fish on dry land.

“Thanks,” Gerard wheezed from his position on the ground.

Lynz just smiled brightly.

Back at the bookshop and Bob was back to staring at the mirror, trying to figure out how to send the now shackled Wonderland creatures back.

The Cheshire Cat hopped onto his shoulder. “A bibitty, bobitty, boo! How to get them through. What a trick, what a trial. When the answer wears a smile.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Bob growled.

“Wait, Bob,” Mikey went to stand next to him. “Those engravings… pass me some paper and a pencil.” Brian quickly handed them over and Mikey did a rubbing of a part of the frame. He then held it up to the mirror.

“Its just like I thought,” Mikey murmured and grabbed a copy of Alice in Wonderland from the pile of research on the table, opened it onto a page and began to read.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves  
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:  
All mimsy were the borogoves,  
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Alice and Tweedles began to scream as if someone had set them on fire.

“Quickly, pull them towards the mirror!” Bob shouted to Gabe “Just for the love of God, don’t fall through!”

Mikey continued to read the poem.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!  
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!  
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun  
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

Gabe and Bob, with the help of Gerard manhandled Alice to the mirror, which began to flicker like the surface of a lake made of mercury. The ripples grew bigger, as if it was reaching out for Alice. With a final nudge, the boys pushed her through, only narrowly missing being caught by the mirror.

He took his vorpal sword in hand:  
Long time the manxome foe he sought --  
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,  
And stood awhile in thought.  
And, as in uffish thought he stood,  
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,  
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,  
And burbled as it came!

Mikey kept reading in earnest as the rest of the hunters pushed and pulled and threw the Tweedles through the stormy surface of the mirror.

One, two! One, two! And through and through  
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!  
He left it dead, and with its head  
He went galumphing back.  
"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?  
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!  
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'  
He chortled in his joy.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves  
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;  
All mimsy were the borogoves,  
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Mikey closed the book with a slam and looked around. The mirror was still raging mercury, tentacles reaching out to grab at them.

“I thought that was supposed to work,” Bob shouted over the roar of noise coming from the mirror.

“It was!” Mikey defended his tactics.  
The Cheshire Cat bounced in front of the mirror and hissed.

“Stop your screaming and frothing this instant. I’m coming home in a bit. Just send the ones who don’t belong. For I am the Cheshire and your lord and master. The unseen master of the Land of Wonder.” And with that, he jumped into the mirror and the noise stopped.

“Bit overdramatic, don’t you think?” Kitty sniffed.

“Where are they?” The Ways stepped carefully towards the mirror, now silent and frozen and examined the frame closely. Mikey tilted it forward to check behind it when suddenly a body tumbled out through the glass, followed closely by three more.

“Holy Crap!” exclaimed Gerard.

“Way! What took you so fucking long?” asked a very happy Frank.

“Nice to see you too…?” said Gerard as Frank caught him in a tight hug.

Ray had disentangled himself from the mess of limbs on the ground and in a rare show of happiness, Bob pulled him into a hug, before slapping his back in a manly fashion, muttering about how happy he is to see them alive. Pete dove at Mikey, arms flailing and landed the two of them in a tangle behind the couch.  
A cough ended the reunion for a moment.

“Uh…hi?” A tall girl with pitch black hair and way too much eyeliner on stood awkwardly in front of the group of hunters.

“Hi,” Gabe slunk towards her. “I’m Gabe, pretty lady and you’re welcome for the rescue.”

“Alicia, actually. And thanks. Everyone.” With that, she turned and left the coffee shop.  
They all turned to look at each other.

“Not exactly the damsel in distress, is she?” Brian commented.

“Hey Mikey! What are we going to do with… Mikey?” Gerard leant over the back of the couch where he had last seen Mikey and Pete fall. Pete was alone and looking thoroughly confused.

“I think he went after the girl,” Pete sulked.

 

Epilogue

“And that’s the end of that,” Bob said as the thoroughly satisfying sound of smashing glass reached his ears.

“All's well that ends well,” Pete pointed out, arms slung around Patrick. They had all congregated back in Chicago at AK for celebratory drinks. Mikey even got Alicia to join them.

“So, how did you end up in the mirror?” Gerard finally asked the girl his brother was making moon eyes at.

“Uh.. I’m a relic hunter. I specialise in objects with mystical properties. I tracked down the mirror and was examining it, when the pewter activated the quartz I wear for, ironically, protection, and I got sucked into the mirror. Quartz is a great conduit for magic.”

“Huh. And so smashing the mirror is a good thing?” Gerard wasn’t sure, as his theory was that the mirror was the doorway and when you smash a doorway, you kind of open it permanently, but Bob had told him to shut up and go suck more face with Lynz and to leave the adults to do some work.

Alicia shrugged. “I have no idea, but I somehow feel safer now that I know it’s in a thousand pieces.”

Lynz wove an arm around Gerard’s waist. “Celebratory, post hunt sex?” she asked him.

He giggled, nodded and dragged her towards his car.

The End.


End file.
